Sternentor: A Stargate AU
by RCTFI
Summary: The Stargate program in a world where Nazi Germany survived WWII, after getting their hands on the Gate in the 1930s. "Sternentor" is Stargate in German. The SS ranks might prove a little hard to decipher, but equivilency tables are common online.
1. Chapter 1

Abydos, SS Gate Complex, 1990

**Abydos, SS Gate Complex, 1990**

_Scharführer_ Heinrich Muller absently toyed with the cardboard coffee cup as he leaned against the wall of the radar room. He was bored. Very bored. There never seemed to be anything to do while on duty, here in the Gate Complex itself. Of course, he reflected, he could be off in the desert, chasing down the last of the locals to be found anywhere near the gate complex and the research station that was examining the new materials that the locals had been mining. Something strange about them, it seemed. Perhaps the potential, he had heard it whispered, for a new type of super-bomb, something to outdo the Americans with their hydrogen bomb... he didn't really care, when it came down to it. It wouldn't affect him either way, unless worst came to worst, and the _Reich_ and the Americans tore into one another, something which would leave few enough survivors, and would see both states brought down. Or if the Soviets got up to something in Poland... it would be good to have a new sort of super-bomb then, to smash the massed Soviet hordes... not that it really mattered. The _Reich_ did not need anything that the Soviets had, and the Soviets would have to be madder than the usual Slav to want a war with the _Reich_.

One of the radar men cursed, interrupting his thoughts, something he found he was a bit glad of - they had been gloomy ones, after all, the sort of thoughts that boring duties brought on.

He frowned, and asked the radar man:

"What is it?" to which he got an immediate reply:

"Something's wrong with this machine. We don't have any aircraft out flying, but this thing," he slapped the display roughly, as if hoping to make it change its story with the methods one might use on a defiant prisoner, "is reporting that we are either about to have a mountain land on us, or," he looked up, a young fellow compared to Heinrich, "we are about to have a whole flock of airplanes come in and recreate the Battle of Britain with us as the poor Londoners." Heinrich frowned - the boy was young, so young that the Battle of Britain was no more than an abstraction to him, a historical event like any other. Heinrich's father had flown in it, though, and had always talked of how there had been so many RAF planes, so much flak... he'd been glad when the treaty was signed in 1943, and the _Luftwaffe_ had been able to stop its costly attacks...

Again, back to the present. He frowned:

"Well, the locals have no aircraft, thanks God... perhaps... a flock of birds?" Even as he said it, he knew it was unlikely - there were almost no birds in the desert... the radarman had come to the same conclusion, and made to say as much before Heinrich cut him off:

"I don't know. Call up the Base Commander, ask him if the _Luftwaffe _is up to something we weren't told about. I'll go check with the men outside." the radarman nodded, and went for the field telephone, as Heinrich went for the door.

Outside of the radar station, the heat was a bit worse. A few rough barracks had been set up, built with local labor before the locals had been mostly killed off. Around them were a few smaller outbuildings, storage and such, a large machine shop, a mess-hall and an armory completing the base that had grown up around the pyramids.

Around that, barbed-wire ringed the entire base, with a few machine-gun pits set up to protect against the possibility of raids by locals. The small _Luftwaffe _base nearby was almost as large, even if it only had a few spotting planes, and one or two fighter-bombers...

He made his way over to the machine shop, since he'd noticed that among the three six wheeled armored cars parked there was the command model that the _Obersturmbannführer _in command of the SS detachment here used as his personal transport. There were a good dozen of the six-wheeled armored cars on Abydos, they were good at chasing down the locals when mobile action was needed, and were easier to maintain than proper panzers. It was a bit of over-kill, he guessed, but he wasn't going to complain...

He passed a squad of men coming in from patrol as he neared the machine shop - they looked tired, and dirty, but happy - happy to have made it back in one piece, looking forward to hot food and hot showers. They were joking with one another... just then he heard a sonic boom. He looked up, as did the men, and noticed a pair of black shapes, moving swiftly. One of the young soldiers laughed, and called out:

"Look at the _Luftwaffe_, they can't resist showing off for us on the ground!" a few of the others laughed too, although Heinrich noticed that the _Unterscharführer_ commanding the patrol looked apprehensive, as he felt himself. Those hadn't looked like _Luftwaffe_ planes...

And then they came back, a swooping approach, coming in low and slower this time. Almost as if...

Even as he formed the thought, they attacked. Bolts of light flew from their wings, like tracers from a slow-firing gun, hitting the camp... they were making a strafing run, it was an attack! Heinrich threw himself flat, suddenly longing for a weapon, but he didn't have one...

One of the two aircraft hit the machine shop, where the armored cars were parked - Heinrich felt his jaw drop as a few hits destroyed the parked armored cars, reducing them to flaming wreaks. Impressive fire-power...

Someone opened up at the attack craft with a machinegun, and that brought the shocked soldiers back to the moment - the _Unterscharführer_ screamed for his men to fire... and they did. For whatever good small arms fire was against aircraft...

The other attacking aircraft, the one that hadn't targeted the machine shop, went for a barracks, and reduced it to flaming ruin in moments. Heinrich felt a moment of shock, thought of the men inside, how they were dead so suddenly... but then there was more to worry about, the attackers were circling, preparing to make another strafing run.

Heinrich got onto his feet, and began to run, towards the armory. He didn't know what good it would do if he got his hands on a rifle... but he knew it would make him feel more secure.

As he ran, he wondered -what was happening, what was going on, was the _Luftwaffe_ base under attack too...

It didn't really matter, though.

When he reached the armory, he found a few of the men there, gathering kit, faces grim... he took an MP-65 when someone offered him one, glad of its solid weight. It was a brute of a weapon, a descendent of the MP-44, a thing of stamped metal. A real man-killer, as he'd seen on occasion skirmishing with Arabs in the Mediterranean colonies, or with French terrorists in Occupied France, during the Riots of '88. But against aircraft...

Absently, he accepted a pair of extra magazines, a canteen and a helmet. He was just putting the helmet on when the aircraft made their next pass...

The mess hall and another barracks were reduced to burning wreckage this time, he could hear men screaming, and was suddenly afraid... one of the men was in his face, a nervous young fellow, practically screaming:

"What do we do, sir?!" he couldn't think of anything...

And then the _Luftwaffe_ came, the two fighter-bombers. They fired off missiles, and raced overhead, engaging the enemy, shooting down one of the enemies... he heard the men cheering:

"_Sieg Heil _the _Luftwaffe_!" and then he saw it. A flying mountain, just like the radar man had described it. It shot down the two _Luftwaffe_ planes like one might swat flies, so easily... and then it started shooting into the base camp around the pyramid... it was, Heinrich decided, almost certainly the worst day of his life. And then the armory exploded behind him...

**Later**

Jaffa soldiers searched the ruined base at the order of their god, Ra. Their god was curious, and wanted to know more about the strange events that had been occurring on its rarely-visited world. After all, Abydos was a valuable source of Naqahdah, one that Ra found... useful. And, these... strange people, whoever they were, had downed a Death Glider with strange weapons the likes of which had not been seen before.

One of the Jaffa prodded a human soldier who lay near the ruins of the armory. The human twisted a little, and let out a moan. The Jaffa looked up, saw his commander:

"Honored First Prime, this human yet lives. Shall I end its life, or should I secure it as a prisoner?" the First Prime considered this for a moment, then,

"Let him live. Ra demands that we bring him some of these people so that he can get answers." the Jaffa nodded, and called for one of his comrades. Together they began to drag the SS man away, back to the ring transporter.

**Later**

Heinrich Muller woke up with a pounding, throbbing, headache. He had never felt so... awful... before. Like the worst hangover in the world... he couldn't see anything, he realized... and then he remembered what had happened, and suddenly felt even worse.

He was just beginning to twitch and collect himself when there was light. A bright light, shocking and blinding. He fell on his face, moaning in terror, realizing that he'd pissed himself at some point, and that the sensation of trousers soaked with cold urine was one of the least pleasant ones in the world... then he saw the... the enemy, best to think of them as just the enemy.

They wore complex armor, and carried some sort of staves... ceremonial garb? Then his eyes were drawn to the figure on the throne. Definitely human... it... or was it he... spoke:

"Bow before me human. I am Ra." he actually laughed then, at the sheer absurdity of it all, that the most insane scientists and archeologists who'd been translating the writings, who'd tried to fit it all in with the Norse-based religion of the SS, had gotten something right... the... thing spoke again:

"Why do you laugh, human? Which System Lord, which god, do you serve?" and Heinrich couldn't stop laughing, at the sheer absurdity of it all...

_**Sternentorkommando**_**, Austrian Alps**

_Gruppenführer_ Michael Schmidt listened grimly to the _Hauptsturmführer_'s report. It was... disconcerting, to say the least, to think of the Abydos base losing contact... he sighed. A full battalion of SS troops, a small _Luftwaffe_ contingent... armor... and all of it seemed to be gone. They had opened the gate to attempt communication... but nothing. Nothing at all. Had the natives somehow overrun the base... no, that was impossible. Were the Americans out there, then? A terrifying thought, that there could be another gate on earth. But, if that was so, wouldn't their teams be going through the American gate on their way back a good half the time? They weren't... something, he decided, was up.

As the _Hauptsturmführer_ continued listing the very few things that they knew for certain, _Gruppenführer_ Schmidt cut him off:

"So, we know a lot about nothing, it seems to me. We do not know what it was that happened to our base... or even if it is destroyed. All we know is that when the time came for their routine check-in, they missed it. For the first time ever. And, that when we called them up, they did nothing, and did not respond. For all we know, the locals, a bunch of late Iron Age savages, have overrun a battalion of SS troops... who had air and armored support, and the advantage of a strong defensive position. I believe that, American propaganda notwithstanding, the SS is not that inept." he paused, "Tell me, how many men did we lose last year on Abydos?" the _Hauptsturmführer_ hesitated for a moment:

"Eight, sir. Two to an accident with a grenade, one who got lost in a sand storm, one who fell while climbing the pyramid and four lost to native attacks." Schmidt considered this:

"So, either every radio on Abydos just somehow decided to malfunction at once, or these natives somehow overran the base. Or, God help us, aliens..." he let the statement trail off, then shrugged:

"Send a team through the gate. The Assault Company of SS we have here on standby should do. Tell them to find out just what is going on, and..." he paused:

"Have them go in loaded for bear. Russian bear, the kind with tanks and airplanes - I want each squad to carry shoulder-launched ATMs and SAMs." the _Hauptsturmführer_ nodded:

"Anything else, sir?" Schmidt considered that for a moment... then:

"No. Take the 1st Assault Company, have them ready for deployment as soon as you can. I'll be on the phone to Berlin, seeing what the higher-ups want us to do." a nod - the _Hauptsturmführer_ left the room with a stiff-armed salute, leaving his commander to talk to Berlin...

**Later**

_Gruppenführer_ Schmidt was glad to have received clearance for his operation. Even more glad for the eight missiles loaded with nerve agents and prepared for deployment through the gate that he had been authorized to deploy...

He met the 1st Assault Company in the gate room, the fortified chamber that had been prepared for the event of an attack through the gate. Even if no aliens had been encountered yet, it did not pay to be incautious...

He watched them forming up by squads, checking weapons and kit, and he felt a sense of pride in the skill he saw. They were killers, SS, the finest killers in the _Reich_. He saluted them as they went through the gate, calling out:

"_Sieg Heil_!" which they echoed, loudly and with pride, as the gate activated. Before they made their attack, they threw flash grenades through, and fragmentation grenades a moment later.

A pause, counting seconds... then another shouted _Sieg Heil_, and then men went through... Schmidt watched them go, and then ordered the gate defense teams to move the rockets in, with their load of deadly nerve gasses. He had not wanted the team he was sending through to know just how serious the situation had seemed...

**Abydos, Later**

The Jaffa guarding the gate leveled their staff weapons as soon as it opened, crouched and took aim as best they could, a little afraid perhaps, but with courage enough not to show it... the leader shouted for one of his men to go inform the First Prime, and was just looking back at the gate, when... some sort of something came through. Little metal somethings... he knelt down to examine one, picking it up and holding it close to his face to get a better look... more little metal things came through, differently shaped, an interesting development... was this supposed to be some sort of attack? The... things were thrown, after all...

Then the one in his hand went off, a flash grenade going off less than six inches from his face...

The Jaffa screamed, suddenly blind, and then the fragmentation grenades went off and cut short their screams... and then the 1st SS Assault Company was rushing through the Star Gate, screaming their battle cries...

**Moments Later, a Different Perspective**

_SS-Oberschütze_ Wilhelm Metzger screamed in anger as the enemy fired at him, inaccurate blasts of coherent energy, each hitting with the force of a high caliber sniper rifle at least... but, most of the shots were hitting the walls, or the ceilings or the floor. He smiled, and gave the enemy a short, controlled, burst from his MP-65, knocking him down like nothing, for all his ornate armor.

With that enemy down, he took a cautious step forward, along with the other SS men. Something was not right...

They had come through the gate in full assault mode, half expecting sand-bagged machinegun positions... instead they'd gotten these... Egyptians. Like something out of the Egyptian artwork he'd seen in the exhibitions, when the Cultural Ministry had been trying to make the case that the Egyptians had really been an Aryan people...

He took a closer look at the one he had killed - it wore a strange sort of helmet, like an animal or something, and strange armor over what looked to be honest-to-goodness chain mail. A strange sort of alien, even ignoring the face that it looked too much like a human being... more so than the foul aliens from the television dramas he'd liked when he was younger...

Shooting started again, as his squad came around a corner - a few of the enemy were trying to hold them up, but they didn't last long, automatic weapons fire cleared them out. Wilhelm cursed, though, as he noticed that his squad had taken its first loss. It seemed that even if these enemies could not hit the broad side of a barn most of the time, they could still be dangerous...

More shooting, and grenades - he rounded a corner, and came almost face to face with an enemy. This one wasn't wearing a helmet - he looked... human, fully human. Arabic, perhaps, in extraction... the _human_ enemy smashed him across the knees, knocking him down. He shouted a warning as more of the enemy swarmed in to attack... even if their shooting staves were ineffective at ranged combat, they seemed effective enough at close-in work... he saw one of his comrades go down, smashed across the face, mewling and spitting blood and teeth as he fell... and then another SS man fired, fully automatic, a long burst, almost emptying his magazine, knocking all three of the enemies who had been in close off their feet.

Wilhelm stood, and looked around... another SS casualty, the man he'd seen struck over the head seemed to be bleeding, with a cracked skull. They moved on, leaving the body for whoever came after them to pick up.

**Later**

The pyramid seemed clear of enemies, as far as Wilhelm could see. His squad rushed out of one of the doors, intent on seeing just what there was to see out where the base had been...

The first thing they noticed as that the base had been leveled. Flattened, as though someone had hit it with a full-on artillery bombardment. The next thing they noticed were the enemies among the ruins, taking shots at them, yelling strange battle cries in their odd language.

The _Unterscharführer_ called for a sniper, as the SS men laid down a withering suppressive fire on the enemy... who seemed to have no idea of what it was to take cover. They would kneel, yes, or crouch, but not throw themselves flat, or hide behind the terrain... they suffered horribly for that, as the SS men machine-gunned them, while their counter-fire ineffectively hammered at the stone of the doorway.

When the sniper finally came, there was little work for him, as the SS troops assaulted through the doorway, and into the outside...

It was then that the enemy showed their hand in full - a pair of aircraft, swooping in to strafe, sending down more of the enemy's coherent energy blasts, but these ones more effective... two SS men were hit behind Wilhelm, and they were killed instantly, bodies smashed, and actually burning.

The _Unterscharführer_ called for an SAM, and got his wish - one of the men took aim, and fired - he'd gotten a lock, it seemed, because his missile struck one of the attacking aircraft head-on, sending it down to earth in flames, to explode spectacularly.

The other attacking aircraft circled, began another pass... the man with the launcher worked frantically, desperately trying to get it loaded...

The enemy craft fired again, this time killing another SS man, not the one with the launcher, though... the launcher, prepared, sent off another shoulder-launched SAM...

The last attack craft met its fate almost at the very lowest point of its dive, a hit to one of the wings. It went into a death spin, slamming to earth with appalling force, like a hit from a heavy artillery piece.

Wilhelm looked around the ruined base. Nothing left shooting at them. He turned back towards the pyramid, and gasped in amazement. There was another pyramid, albeit one made of metal, on top of the pyramid's tip. Something was very wrong here...

As he stared, the _Unterscharführer_ spoke, quietly:

"I think now we know how the enemy managed to overwhelm our forces here..." no one responded. They were too busy staring at the thing. How the heck were they going to fight a metal mountain?

And then came a report from inside the lower pyramid, the one they had known about, a panicked report from one of the other squads coming over their radios:

"They came for us without warning! Hundreds of them! Requesting immediate assistance! _Sieg Heil_ the _Schutzstaffel_! Kill the enemy!" then automatic weapons fire, grenades and the heavier sound of the staff weapons.

So. The enemy had some way into the pyramid from the ship above it. So the SS men could get inside...

As one they headed back towards the entryway they'd come out from. They were going to see what they could do...

**Later**

The enemy kept coming, ridiculous Egyptian armor over chain mail, screaming their war chants... the first waves had broken in the face of fragmentation grenades, and then the rest of the SS forces had been back, and they'd rallied around the gate, fighting ferociously as more and more of the enemy came for them... it seemed like there were hundreds of them.

After a few more waves were beaten back, they'd been out of grenades, and the staff weapons, ridiculously ineffective though they might have been, were having a noticeable effect. And ammunition was running low.

They had been just about to dial up earth and return through... all talk of how the SS never retreated aside, this was proving to be unwinable... but then the attacks stopped. At first they took it as just another lull in the fighting, and used the lull as they had other earlier opportunities. Place those too wounded to keep fighting near to the gate, gather extra ammunition and supplies from the dead and badly wounded...

When that was done, they'd settled in to wait for the next rush. But it hadn't come. Instead, a rather nervous fellow in the tattered uniform of a _Scharführer_ had come up, calling out as he did:

"_Heil_ Hitler! I'm one of your own! Don't shoot, I come to speak to you on their behalf." they'd let him in, and he'd had the chance to speak with the officers. He told them, sighing and smiling sheepishly at the ridiculousness of what he was saying:

"I am _Scharführer _Heinrich Muller. We are fighting aliens. The metal pyramid on top of us is their spaceship. They've got some sort of teleportation device that lets them go down to the surface very quickly. I estimate that there are... at least several hundred of them left. Even if you have killed a fair few." he gestured at the corpses of the enemies that they had killed around them - they were using the enemy dead for cover in some cases... he continued:

"As for why they sent me... these are the Goa'uld. The soldiers you are fighting are the Jaffa. These are in service to some sort of leader up in the space ship... a leader who claims to be..." a pause, a nervous cough, "... the great god Ra." one of the officers actually laughed at that, and then another asked:

"An alien?" and Heinrich nodded:

"An alien. An alien who wants us to worship him as a god." they considered this, then:

"Why did they send you?" to which Heinrich replied, with a chuckle:

"Why else? To secure your surrender." they laughed at that, glanced at the gate... and then nodded to one another. Best to get back to the _Reich _with new information that was this important...

**Abydos**

The surviving SS men made their retreat through the gate in good order, falling back by the numbers, one half of the squads watching for Jaffa attack while the other half ran through the gate, then one half of the remaining squads shrinking the perimeter, and the others running through... it was at that point that the Jaffa showed themselves.

It was a mad rush this time, no subtlety, no bothering with a ranged attack. Just rushing. The SS men used their MP-65s at fully automatic settings, cutting down the Jaffa like they were nothing... even if they were harder to kill than ordinary human beings would be.

_SS-Oberschütze _Wilhelm Metzger was one of the men who'd found themselves facing that rush - he found he rather enjoyed facing the Jaffa as they charged. Easier than fighting competent enemies. Much easier. It was almost comically easy to gun them down as they came on in their rush - their armor was useless against automatic weapons...

Just as he cut down a pair of rushing Jaffa, he heard the man to his left shout something:

"_Achtung_!" then a frightful roar... he glanced to his left, jaw dropped in shock. The man who'd just fired off his anti-tank missile into the oncoming Jaffa, driving them back, explained with a grin:

"Well, it's not like they've got armored support..." he let the point trail off, but Wilhelm was already back to scanning the approach as he made his explanation. A few more Jaffa tried to engage, using the doorways for cover, leaning out to fire their terribly inaccurate weapons, then taking cover again.

So. The enemy was learning...

An SS man screamed then, and Wilhelm glanced in the direction of the scream - one of the men who'd been running into the gate's shimmering blue field had taken a hit, had been sent flying. Flames licked the location of the hit, already spreading in the man's uniform... Wilhelm looked away, momentarily nauseated by the smell of burning flesh. Like burning pork...

He picked off a Jaffa with a well-placed bullet, then heard one of the officers calling for his squad to fall back. He came up from his prone position, to a kneeling stance, and emptied the magazine he'd had loaded, tearing up the ornate wall carvings around the doorway he'd aimed at, but not having any noticeable effect on the Jaffa hiding behind the wall, other than to make him keep his head down. Which he hoped would be enough...

He stood, and ran towards the gate, a crouched run of the sort he'd been trained to use when moving from cover to cover. Stay low, avoid enemy fire...

The wounded had been the first through the gate, but they'd left the dead. It was one of those he tripped over, a poor _SS-Schütze_ who'd had his belly shot away somehow... an unlucky fellow...

Wilhelm thought, as he fell onto his face, that he'd been hit. For a moment. A bad wound, if he didn't feel it... but then he was coming back up, beginning to run towards the gate as the last rear-guard squads folded in and made their own desperate rush...

The Jaffa were becoming courageous now, were making a new rush, sending more fire at the gate. Two or three SS men took hits as they ran, all of which seemed fatal. Or would be - the rest of the SS men were not about to stop for a wounded man...

When he reached the gate, and jumped through, Wilhelm felt amazingly relieved. He got out of the way of anyone coming through behind him, then slowed his pace.

He glanced over his shoulder... saw the last survivors make it through, then staff blasts were following, and he heard someone who sounded like he knew what he was doing ordering them to break the connection... they did, the shimmering blue vanished. They were safe.

For now, Wilhelm realized. Only for now, now that the aliens knew about the _Reich_...

**Abydos**

Ra looked at the Stargate, and felt... more angry than usual. He turned to his First Prime, asking:

"Your men were in the room when the enemy fled. What was the address to which they fled?" a pause, then:

"Most honored Ra, we do indeed have the Gate address. It was -" his words were interrupted. The gate began to engage. Ra took a step back, frowning, as his Jaffa formed ranks, two deep, with staff weapons leveled and ready. Surely the enemy would not attempt a second attack here in one day...

**Earth, Sternentorkommando**

_Gruppenführer_ Michael Schmidt watched the heavy chemical warfare missiles pass through the gate with a smile. Six missiles, of the sort that was aimed at London and the other British cities, or at Russia... each loaded with enough nerve gas to kill a small city... the enemy was in for an unpleasant surprise. An extremely unpleasant surprise.

The survivors of the 1st Assault Company watched the missiles launch from the side, those of their number who were seriously wounded moaning faintly or screaming loudly depending on their level of strength... they watched the missiles go through the gate one by one in very rapid succession. And then, one of them, he couldn't tell who, said, quietly:

"_Sieg Heil _the _Schutzstaffel_. We've gotten the last word." a laugh, that spread among the men, then a shouted chant:

"_Sieg Heil _the _Schutzstaffel_!" _Gruppenführer_ Schmidt watched them, and smiled faintly even as the medical staff took away the wounded. They had done well, if they still had the morale to chant like that...

He turned to the surviving officers of the 1st Assault Company, noticing the ragged man they had picked up for the first time. He shrugged mentally:

"All of you, including the new man, I want you in my office with reports in four hours. Take the time for a shower and a change of clothes. You look like you deserve it." they nodded, and began to follow their men out. All but the ragged man, who seemed to be a bit disoriented, who was observing the lay-out of the Gate room as though it was his first time doing so.

_Gruppenführer_ Schmidt frowned, wondering if he should mention that to the doctors, have them check the man for a head injury... but then he decided against mentioning anything. Probably just shock, they'd see if anything too terrible was wrong with him during the medical exam they'd perform anyway. Such minor things would, he decided as he headed towards his office, almost certainly take care of themselves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sternentorkommando, Austrian Alps**

_Gruppenführer _Schmidt sat behind his desk, quietly shuffling through official requisition papers. He glanced up only when the last of the men he had summoned had arrived. They looked nervous. The enlisted man, _Scharführer _Heinrich Muller according to the file he'd examined, looked perhaps the least at ease of them all. He looked... nervous, really. Quite nervous. Schmidt put that down, absently, to the stress of being summoned to a _Gruppenführer'_s office. It was hardly something which an enlisted man could expect.

The other officers seemed a bit worried as well - no doubt they were a bit worried about what sort of report he would make of their conduct, when the time came for reports. They wondered if they would find censure, for losing men and retreating. He would dispel those worries, he decided - they had done well, all things considered. He smiled, a thin-lipped very faint smile, and spoke:

"We have met the enemy, gentlemen. A new enemy, one that a few weeks ago would have seemed as much an element of science fiction as that gate," he gestured in the direction of the gate room, not bothering to specify, he knew that they understood, "would seem to be to any man on the street in Munich or Manheim. We have met the enemy... and, this time at least, he is ours." the officers seemed a bit relieved at that, although the _Scharführer _still seemed a little uneasy. He continued:

"You have done well. A single company of SS men, striking without warning against a foe they did not know, managed to, in the face of a force that, by all reconing outnumbered you more than ten to one, kill hundreds of enemies, shoot down enemy aircraft, recover a fellow SS man who had been taken prisoner and return with your wounded and the very intelligence that you had been sent to gather... well done. I would be surprised if there will not be some decorations for you before this is all the way through. You acted in the best traditions of the _Schutzstaffel_, the tradition of our victories in France or North Africa during the Revenge War, or of our later triumphs in Arabia." they were smiling now, relaxed, proud to have received such praise. So he began to ask questions:

"Now that that is said, I must ask of you, what do we know of this new enemy? You," he gestured at the poor _Scharführer,_ who seemed quite taken back at the attention, "spent some time as a prisoner of these new enemies. What can you tell us of them?" the _Scharführer_ seemed to consider the question quite carefully, before responding:

"I can, sir, only tell you what I know, which is, sir, not much. The aliens we face are called the Goa'uld. Their soldiers are called Jaffa, and seem to be human. They are capable of interstellar travel, with massive space ships the size of small mountains, that carry thousands of troops and dozens of their attack craft, which they call Death Gliders. And..." he paused, seemingly wondering whether he should continue, but then deciding to before Schmidt had a chance to prompt him:

"Their leader, who seemed to be, as far as I could tell, human, told me that his name was Ra. Ra, as in the Egyptian god. He said, sir, that he was Ra the god, who had ruled over Egypt in ancient times. He told me to bow to him and revere him as a god." _Gruppenführer_ Schmidt nodded, taking this information in. He hesitated for a second, then:

"Well, god or not, I assume that this Ra has just made the unpleasant acquaintance of six city-killing doses of nerve gas. Very well... I think it is time to go into some detail as to enemy equipment and tactics..." he listened as the officers spoke, nodding, and at times shaking his head incredulously. These aliens... or were they human beings... they had the technology to travel between the stars... and yet, for all that, their infantry weapons put him in mind more of the poor French soldiers who had had to face the might of the _Reich_ during the Revenge War. Their soldiers might be brave, but their leaders were fools and their equipment horribly designed. Perhaps, he thought to himself, even with their space battleships, the _Reich_ might have some chance against them... even if only on the ground.

When the discussion began to wind down, he gave an order:

"The gas should dissipate in three days time. When that happens... I want the 2nd and 3rd Assault Companies prepared to go through and see what there is left of the enemy. Perhaps we might secure some sore of enemy equipment for our scientists... perhaps," he smiled, "even their space ship, if the gas managed to penetrate into its interior." a pause, then:

"Also..." he looked at his adjutant, "get me Berlin, I want them to send me some linguists, especially those familiar with ancient Egypt. I have a feeling that they might be needed when it comes to work with whatever enemy equipment we capture. Tell Berlin that it would be good if they got the necessary clearance as soon as possible." his adjutant nodded, he would get a line to _Schutzstaffel_ command, or perhaps to the new _Fuhrer _himself, for Schmidt to speak with someone with the necessary authority. That taken care of, Schmidt looked around the room, at the men sitting in front of his desk. He sighed:

"Four hours wasn't enough. Go, sleep and recover your strength. Something tells me that this base is soon going to be far busier than it ever was before."

**Austrian Alps, Kleindorf Planned Community, Two Days Later**

_Gruppenführer_ Michael Schmidt sat at one of the public tables along the terrace overlooking Kleindorf's largest public park, trying to look like an at-ease officer who was off duty and had simply taken the opportunity to have a seat and enjoy the fine weather. He was not in uniform, and that in itself unnerved him. He had come to think of his black SS uniform as a second skin, something natural and normal. He had actually had to dig fairly thoroughly through his meager selection of civilian clothing, and even then he had been... barely satisfied. The tweed jacket he wore fit badly, and was perhaps a bit out of style... he would be, he decided rather grimly as he watched a horde of little boys, the children of the SS men, officers, NCOs and enlisted, under his command, play in the park, running and jumping and climbing on a jungle gym that looked something like a miniature assault course. He was amused by their antics for a moment, as he watched a group of them form a ring around two of their number, a huge brown haired boy and a small blonde with glasses. He kept smiling, as the two began to fight. The blonde boy must have been two or even three years younger than his opponent, but he fought with a fierce fury, screaming in anger as he struck at his enemy, fighting offensively when a defensive fight might have been wiser. The larger boy was caught off balance, was knocked back, and the boys began to cheer, as they would have had their Goliath smashed the little David.

Without warning, Schmidt was torn from his entertainment, as he heard a man clear his throat behind his shoulder. A little shaken, at how the other man had managed to get in so close, he glanced up. A pale man, with dark hair and blue eyes, slender and perhaps a bit weak. But wearing a _Gestapo _uniform...

Schmidt cleared his throat:

"Would you like to sit with me?" he gestured at the other seats, and the _Gestapo_ man nodded, smiling, and sat in the seat furthest from Schmidt. Somehow, his uniform went perfectly with the black wrought iron of the chairs and the table - the thought went through Schmidt's mind that, since Kleindorf was a fully planned community meant for the SS men and their families, and those supporting them, perhaps the architect had taken the time to make the public furniture go well with SS and _Gestapo_ black... but, and idle thought, no time for those now.

From behind, down in the park, he heard the boys shouting _Sieg Heil_ in imitation of their fathers as the fight went on... the _Gestapo_ man spoke:

"You know, _Herr Gruppenführer_, I was a bit skeptical when I was first told the full story of what was what with your little operation. An interesting idea, that we could... do as your project allowed us to do. And now, these... aliens..." he paused, smiled, "these foreign _Untermenschen_, are interfering. Fantastically dangerous, you know." the smile stayed on his face, as two large men in trench coats came in closer, as Schmidt realized what they were... more _Gestapo_ men. Was he to disappear in the middle of Kleindorf, never to be seen or heard of again? The _Gestapo_ man seemed to pick up on that, and kept smiling, the smile perhaps even widening as he watched Schmidt squirm... then:

"You know, we in Berlin... do not blame you for your losses, even if they were... rather unexpected. We do not, however, excuse you for... everything..." the _Gestapo_ bastard let the moment stretch, let the next words hang there unsaid, as women out shopping noticed the _Gestapo_ men and the man they were talking to, and gave them a wide bubble of privacy, no doubt petrified at the thought of a _Gestapo _man here, among them...

The _Gestapo_ man continued:

"I am Otto Metzger. My rank and so on... is not your concern, save that it is high enough to know everything that you know... and," the grin widened, he was clearly savoring the sight of a high ranking SS officer shaking in fear before him:

"perhaps a bit more as well. I am now assigned here, to act as Berlin's eyes and ears in this most... perilous of times. You remain in command... but I will be watching what you do while you keep your command." Schmidt nodded, relieved beyond words, suddenly no longer afraid of the man in front of him, now that he knew that Berlin had not given that little man power over him. As he relaxed, Otto spoke again:

"Look behind you." Schmidt did, saw the park. The little blonde boy was still holding the larger boy at bay, fighting ferociously. The bigger boy had a broken nose already, but seemed to be angry rather than intimidated. As Schmidt watched, the _Gestapo _man explained the reason for his request:

"The _Reich_ is becoming involved in a war with an alien empire that has every advantage over us that can be imagined. In short..." he paused, and as he paused, the larger kid got in his first good blow, a brute-force punch to the nose, breaking it no doubt. Still, the blonde boy bounced back, screamed defiance as blood sprayed from his nose, and dove into an attack...

"... in short, we are the smaller boy, down there. We have ferocity and determination, while the other, the other has strength." Schmidt nodded, watching, appreciating the blonde boy's ferocity. The fight had drawn a large audience by now, most of the boys who had been playing in the park were in the circle around the two fighters now, while a few off-duty SS men, perhaps among them one of the two boys' fathers, watched from a distance, laughing to one another as they watched. They seemed perhaps amused, perhaps a bit proud that their sons were tough little boys. Fights like this were not common, but they were accepted, on the principal that they made the boys into men, made them fit to fight as SS men like their fathers. Only in an SS town like Kleindorf, though, would a fight have gone on so long in public, though...

The smaller boy seemed to be hurting... Schmidt watched as he took a pair of punches to the belly, which doubled him over. It seemed like the fighting would be over soon, even if the blonde boy remained defiant, as he struck back, always thinking offensively. Another hit to his belly, the bigger boy was screaming aloud in victory, shouting:

"_Sieg Heil_!", no doubt in echo of his father, as he hit the smaller child yet again, seemingly on the verge of a victory...

And then, something rather unexpected. A little girl, who'd been among the crowd, somehow escaping notice even though little girls were not supposed to watch fights, somehow broke into the ring. She jumped onto the bigger boy, hitting him, knocking him off balance, screaming as one might a battlecry:

"My brother!" as the bigger boy went off balance, the smaller boy recovered. With a shout, he kicked the other boy in-between the legs, knocked him down, began to punch him...

But then the fight broke up, as the mother of the smaller boy and his sister who had come to his rescue started to shout angrily. The boys broke up the ring as she came in, looking perhaps a bit sheepish as she marched into the center. She was shouting at her children, as loud as could be:

"Ingrid! How dare you! Hans-Dieter, you need to look after your little sister!" a few of the boys were laughing, although not the brown haired boy, who was lying on the grass, and looked to be crying from the pain...

The _Gestapo_ man spoke:

"Well... let us hope that that fight is not some version of our own struggle. Somehow I doubt we have a little sister to come and save us from our enemies." Schmidt glanced at Otto's face, saw a look of amused disdain. No doubt the blonde boy, Hans-Dieter, would never live down the fact that his sister had come to save him...

As the mother lead away her children, shouting at them and scolding them both in public, Schmidt spoke, to Otto:

"Well... perhaps we have someone to assist us, even if we no doubt will not need it." There, the idea introduced, with room for the safety of evasion in the patriotic little statement tacked on at the end...

Otto frowned:

"Your meaning?" to which Schmidt replied, smiling to allow him a chance to say that it was all a joke:

"I would say that the American military is at least as tough as a German little girl, wouldn't you say so?" Otto smiled:

"Perhaps. Perhaps I should mention your idea to Berlin..." he trailed off, left precisely how he would mention the idea unsaid, no doubt hoping to intimidate. But, no success. Schmidt just smiled. With a sigh, Otto stood, and turned to go, with no words of goodbye.

Schmidt watched him go... and then began to shiver, a delayed reaction to the fear he had mostly managed to suppress. Crazy aliens who claimed to be gods and who threatened the survival of the _Reich_ were one thing... that he could deal with. The _Gestapo_, on the other hand... he didn't know how to deal with them.

**Washington D.C., America**

Erwin Hoth frowned in concentration as he read through his notes once more. It was not going to be easy, what he was going to do. He glanced at his wrist watch, nervous in the thickly upholstered arm chair. Decadent, capitalists of the Americas, almost as bad as the Soviet hordes... or so the things he had been told in school said to him. He frowned - he'd been assigned to America for a long time now, and was coming to actually like some of the people he found himself working with. Even if they were mongrels and weaklings and fools, even if they sometimes exhibited totally alien mindsets, when it came to some of the most important aspects of the _Reich_'s policies, and indeed when it came to some of their own. Granting the Blacks full Civil Rights... well, he guessed that had to be the Jewish influence telling. He was a good Party member, after all, and so was well versed in all of the details of America's corruption and decadence.

The secretary who'd been watching him while he waited cleared her throat, and he looked up. Sarah Rosenberg, she'd introduced herself as, and he'd had to wonder if her presence was a deliberate insult. Ever since those Soviet spies had gotten the photos out of Germany, of what had been done to the Jews of occupied Europe who had not had the chance to flee to the Middle East or the Soviet Union or the United Kingdom... well, ever since then the _Reich_ had not been the most popular nation as far as America was concerned. Another proof of the Jewish influence on American politics. Why else would anyone care?

She spoke:

"The President will see you now, Mr. Ambassador." less respect in those words than he felt was normal, but he'd expected that. He nodded in return, stood and made to enter. The Secret Service man at the doorway stopped him though, and patted him down. A humiliation, as if the ambassador would carry a bomb or pistol in and assassinate the President. That was what the _Gestapo_ agents were for... anyways, he'd already gone through security. They were paying him back for his nerve, in insisting on an immediate meeting with the President when he had had none scheduled. For violating protocol. He endured the search without comment. The secretary watched, he felt certain that she was amused by his humiliation. But he couldn't say anything about that, either. It would hardly be dignified.

Finally, he was allowed in, to see the President. The only elected leader of a truly first class world power, for all that the Soviets might claim differently.

He was a big man, the President. Huge and healthy and charismatic, a popularist according to his dossier. A well-liked man, who was known as a warm and friendly man. From Arkansas, a former governor.

He wasn't being friendly now, of course. He was going along with the attitude that had been shown towards the German ambassador before, with the security checks and so on. He asked, before Hoth had a chance to present himself:

"What is it that brings you here? I assume it is not simply a desire to chat." Erwin found himself thrown off-guard - he usually was, dealing with men like the American President, popularists with little or no sense of proper behavior and dignity. Still, he managed a response:

"I bring you important news, news that poses a danger to both our nations." The President snorted:

"Still trying to get us to take your side in your skirmished with the Soviets? I find the idea unlikely, even if some of the people in our southern states seem to favor your government. Or is this about Argentina and Chile?" Erwin winced at that, mostly mentally but still it might have showed just a little. Argentina was Germany's major ally in South America, and had just involved itself in a border war with American-allied Chile. Involved itself, and failed to make much progress... an embarrassment, really. There was already talk of sending some German divisions to back up the Argentine troops, but that was unlikely to come to anything - the Americans were too closely involved on the Chilean's behalf. Finally, he responded:

"No, Mr. President. Something more important." he reached for his briefcase, swallowed a little nervously. Then:

"Mr. President, I was only made aware of these documents yesterday. When first I was shown them, I assumed that they were... that it was a joke. A strange, sick, joke. But I assure you that these are all genuine. Verified by the highest levels of the German government." he took the papers out, the photos and the long documents only just translated to English. He set them on the President's desk without asking permission, and explained:

"Mr. President, the _Reich _has discovered a method of interstellar travel." a pause, then, "We have made contact with alien life." another pause, as the President raised an eyebrow and reached for the papers, then, "It is hostile."

He gave the President a few moments to scan the first documents, and then began talking again:

"We have conducted our interstellar travel through an ancient artifact, the Stargate. It appears to be the product of either alien life or, from the opinion of some of our SS archeologists, an ancient Aryan civilization that they have found some trace of, which seems to be referred to as the Asgard, something to do with the Nordic gods. We first began these operations in the '40s, and have been colonizing entire worlds since then. Until a few days ago, we had not made contact with truly alien life. That changed. Aliens attacked one of our bases, destroying it. We sent an Assault Company through the Gate to see why we had lost contact with the base. It was almost annihilated. The aliens were there in force. Our troops retreated, and we deployed chemical weapons against the aliens. Two days ago we returned, and discovered that we had succeeded in destroying the aliens in that ship. We have in turn captured that starship, but have been unable to make its systems work. We have, however, cause to believe that this ship is a representative of an Empire. An Empire controlled by a parasite race, which sees humanity as little more than possible slaves." The President had found the pictures they'd taken, of the alien symbiots, the snakes, that had been removed from the chests of the dead soldiers. He looked... worried. Finally, he spoke, breaking the silence:

"Well... I think I have to say that you have brought me one of the only pieces of news which I think would lead to my being willing to work with you at all." a pause, then:

"Give me time to study this. I'll contact you tomorrow, once I've spoken with my cabinet." Erwin nodded:

"Understood." and made ready to go. No pleasantries. Nothing like that. Even if America might soon be working with the Germans, it did not mean that they liked them. He only wondered what the future would bring...

**Abydos, SS Gate Complex, One Day Earlier**

The Gate began to open, rings rotating, chevrons locking.

Connection, blue swirling like the rapids of some particularly odd river...

Opening.

Then, nothing for a moment.

And then the first SS soldier came through, in full Chemical Warfare gear, MP-65 at the ready. Others came behind him, men coming through in great numbers. Combat Engineers from the SS _Sternentorkommando_ coming through behind the troops, grim features set, pretending not to feel the slightest touch of nervousness, of fear. Pretending.

An officer, a _Hauptsturmführer, _shouted an order:

"_Pioniere_! Set up a defensive perimeter!" They complied, they'd brought through sandbags, and set up machinegun positions with commendable speed, as MG-72 HMGs were brought through by more follow-up troops... it was a major operation, two Assault Companies of the SS, plus _Pioniere_, or Combat Engineers. Lots of men, considering the relatively small size of the forces _Sternentorkommando_ had available for deployment.

The troops moved out, as the inner perimeter was set up. They found Jaffa corpses, many of them, plus a few of their own dead. All scattered in the ancient pyramid, all scattered and filthy and dead and... the gas had done something funny, the men realized as they searched for signs of life. No decay, yet, even if the bodies had desiccated in the heat of Abydos. Whatever would have made them actually rot had been killed as well.

The search continued, as more and more troops came through the Gate. _Scharführer_ Heinrich Muller was among the last of the combat troops. He gripped his MP-65 tightly, knuckles white, although no one could see it underneath his chemical gear. He seemed, perhaps, to be even more nervous than all of the others had been.

He spoke almost as soon as he was through, a statement that was at the forefront of his mind at the moment.

"Look for a man in golden armor. He's the boss here." a few replies, acknowledgements and the like. Understood. He'd been allowed to return with the second force through the argument that he must have a better understanding of the enemy than anyone else, having been taken prisoner. And also for that reason - he had been taken prisoner. It was part of the warrior mythos of the SS, their belief in their own invulnerability, that they were never to surrender or to allow themselves to be taken. He'd failed at that, and so they thought that they were giving him a chance to redeem himself...

They didn't find the body in gold armor.

A few minutes into the search, they did find the rings, the teleportation system linking the ship to the pyramid upon which it had landed.

An SS squad triggered it with no one on it first. No one, and nothing but a half dozen fragmentation grenades that had had their firing pins pulled...

They waited a few seconds longer than it would take for the grenades to detonate before sending up the first party, a full squad with MP-65s ready, set to full-auto.

They fired wildly as soon as they appeared at the ship's end of the ring teleporter, wild unaimed fire... they kept it up for a few seconds, but then they realized than no one was firing back.

More men came up into the starship after that, a few squads and then some specialists, among them _Scharführer_ Muller. He seemed a bit overawed as he entered the ship, something that, had anyone noticed it would have been attributed, most likely, to his memories of captivity.

They searched the ship after that, room by room and corridor by corridor. Nothing much to find, as far as they could tell. Dead men, more of the Jaffa, scattered corpses. They almost felt something, when they found the cell where the other SS prisoners had been stored. A half dozen bodies, somehow small now that death had claimed them, a twisting, agonizing, death as muscles spasmed and bones broke... but no one said anything, other than to report that the bodies had been found. _Scharführer_ Muller made no comment at the news, and indeed seemed to have his mind on other matters.

It was later, that he led a squad of men and the _Hauptsturmführer_ as well, to the room where he'd met with the man, well, the alien, who'd claimed to be Ra. The door opened, an automatic reaction to their presence. The squad went in, checking every corner...

They found him at the back of the room, slumped over, leaning against one of the walls. So used to death had they become, that the men who found him simply assumed that he was dead.

"All clear, _Herr Hauptsturmführer._" they entered, the _Hauptsturmführer _and Heinrich Muller. They looked around, so much gold and so many ornate decorations. A fine room, such a very fine room. Like something from a movie.

The _Hauptsturmführer _was the first to check Ra's body. He leaned in, took a good look and then turned to call for some men to take the body... but he never got the chance. Ra stood up, moving swiftly, a terrifying shock to someone who'd assumed that the air outside was still packed full of chemicals they could kill a man with ease...

He killed the _Hauptsturmführer _with contemptuous ease, a neck snapping motion, like a farmer wringing a chicken's neck. The men were reacting as he rose, bringing weapons to bear... he reacted first, some sort of a disrupting weapon, blasts of sheer force sent out from his palms, two men thrown back, internal organs pulped, then a third... the others were firing, though. One of them screamed into the communications channel:

"We've got a live one!" and then he too was killed, caught in the periphery of the alien's force blast, sent flying back to strike the wall and lay still, neck snapped like a dry twig...

Ra must have been shot dozens of time, but he still fought, killing the SS men like they were nothing, like they might have slaughtered the tribesmen of Abydos when first they had come through the Gate, and decided that the locals had too much in common with the Jews...

Heinrich watched it all, all of the slaughter. But he did not bring his MP-65 to bear. He just watched.

Finally, the superior numbers of the SS told, as more of them came through the doors, Ra was struck down, incapacitated, to lay on the deck and scream in anger at those who had wounded him, as he continued to fight back...

He screamed something, then:

"Three ships are already on their way to this world! Three of them! My servants will come for you, they will hunt you forever! There are more of them than you can imagine, and they will never let your world rest in peace!" he made as if to say something more, but then Heinrich acted, bringing his MP-65 to bear for the first time that day. Shooting Ra, a fatal shot. An end to long-winded words and to the killing.

The other _Hauptsturmführer_ spoke to him, a while later:

"Did you hear what he was saying, about how there are so many of them, all coming for us?" Heinrich nodded, didn't say anything else. "They're going to be..." the _Hauptsturmführer _trailed off, glanced left and right across the room filled with German corpses.

"They're going to be a problem, I think." Heinrich nodded, and as they prepared to go, he was surprised to hear the _Hauptsturmführer_'s next comment, more surprised than he had been at anything else that day:

"I think... I think we might need help dealing with these... aliens." That was not something an officer of the SS was supposed to say. He was supposed to say something about how there would be full shares of glory, or something like that, something about honor and loyalty and duty and the _Reich_ or the _Volk_. Not something that sounded like fear.

Heinrich wondered how the Generals would receive this latest news, if the officers in command of this expedition had been as thoroughly shaken as this particular _Hauptsturmführer_'s reaction seemed to indicate that they were. Perhaps they might even seek an alliance with the Americans, since they were supposed to be mostly a proper sort of power. Perhaps. Perhaps a lot of things.

The SS left Abydos, abandoning their sandbags as they did. There was, they had become convinced, nothing much left to keep them there, especially if three more ships were on their way. Nothing to do but return to earth, to begin planning for the defense…

**Preparations**

**Abydos, SS Defensive Position**

The SS _Pioniere_ troops shouted at one another, as they dragged the heavy steel and titanium components of the SAM launcher into position in the roughly prepared firing pit, each seemingly attempting to out-curse the other. It was one of many, the SAM launcher. One of many. The _Luftwaffe _was trying its best to be helpful, was sending through the Gate all of the fighter-bombers it had had, of that particular class, that had been built to be sent through a Gate in pieces and reassembled on the other side. Fifteen of them, when all was said and done. The _Luftwaffe_ detachment at _Sternentorkommando_ had never seemed important enough to warrant much further investment into what had been an unimportant sort of aircraft, one that had not faced actual enemies until the Goa'uld had shown themselves. Hence the SAMs. It was assumed that the enemy would attain air superiority quite quickly, nothing else could be assumed. So there needed to be some way to fight back, to hurt them... so they'd chosen the light, mobile, SAM launchers that the _Wehrmacht_ had developed for use in the mountains between Chile and Argentina, shooting down helicopters in the little war that was eating up South America, to go with a few heavier units.

A _Hauptscharführer_ was overseeing the whole affair, as the latest load of SAM launchers was brought out from the pyramid. The Gate was in near constant use, always something coming through one way or the other, as the alien ship was stripped of all possible valuables, while the perimeter around it was fortified as thoroughly as it could possibly be.

_Oberschütze _Wilhelm Metzger, assigned from the 1st SS _Sternentorkommando _Assault Company to the theoretical Abydos Garrison, watched the work with a touch of interest. It was relaxing, he decided, to see someone working harder than he was supposed to be... thinking of his work, he looked down at the trench he had been helping to dig... it was deep enough, really. Deep enough to be ready, when the time came, as far as he could tell. He sighed, a tiny, quiet, sigh, and his entrenching tool bit into the dry earth and sand of Abydos once more. The wind could fill trenches too quickly for his taste. They'd laid down razor wire, and mine fields and were in the process of establishing sand-bagged firing positions and dug-in, reinforced, strong points from which they would fight... it was all going as well as he could possibly hope. Abydos was a terrible place for trenches, but at least they seemed to have realized that. He was only supposed to dig a ditch into the sand, a furrow, and then they would lay down ply-wood, and set up sand bags... he checked the others working with him, all were at their tasks, none slacking off excessively. He smiled at a memory. Initially, _Sternentorkommando_ had sent through the _Pioniere_ with full sand bags, until some clever combat engineer had noticed that Abydos was a desert, full of sand. After that, they'd just sent through the canvas sacks.

As he dug, he filled a sand bag, then another... it was dull, mind-numbing work, but he kept at it. He fantasized as he worked, of Kleindorf, of the girl he'd been seeing, a proper Aryan maiden just like all SS men were supposed to marry, he found her dull and unappealing, although they would probably end up married to one another, producing many healthy babies for the _Volk_... he mentally shrugged, as he kept working. It wasn't as if that was his greatest concern at the moment. There were aliens to fight, after all...

**Arrival**

The Goa'uld ships came into orbit, and held their position for a few hours, evidently waiting for orders from their god, orders which would not come and which indeed could not come...

Then they acted. It seemed that they had some worries as to the strength of the opposition that they would be facing. Worries that a ship might be downed... so they sent in their Death Gliders first. Each of the three ships carried a dozen of the attack craft, so it came up to thirty six of them. Thirty six against fifteen _Luftwaffe _fighter-bombers and a slew of ground-based SAMs.

_Oberschütze _Wilhelm Metzger had a good view of the fighting. His squad had just been putting the finishing touches to a firing position, a good piece of cover, when the enemy had arrived. There'd been little he could do - he wasn't crew for an SAM launcher, his MP-65 seemed tiny and pathetic compared to the weapons being used...

The _Luftwaffe_ fighter-bombers had all been off the ground when the Death Gliders struck. They'd seen them on the radar...

The first pass was frightening, the _Luftwaffe_ planes shedding Air-to-Air missiles as they came at the Death Gliders, contrails proliferating and spreading... impacts, three or four Death Gliders downed, another round of firing, this time an exchange as the Death Gliders put their guns to action. The SAMs were shooting too, all the missiles going up to join in the destruction...

A _Luftwaffe_ plane, stricken and dieing, fell in flames to strike the sand of Abydos not much more than twenty meters from the firing pit in which Wilhelm and three other SS men cowered. A catastrophic explosion, jet fuel burning, the heat astounding... curses, from the other men and, Wilhelm realized with some surprise, from his own mouth, curses without conscious direction...

More shooting, swooping aircraft weaving and twisting as they tried to kill one another... he couldn't tell how many Death Gliders and how many _Luftwaffe_ planes were dead, but it seemed to be a great many... the sky was covered in contrails and smoke, grey smoke from burning fuel, black smoke rising in great columns from downed aircraft.

Another crash close by, a Death Glider this time, Wilhelm thought. At least some of the aliens were dieing...

More dieing, death and destruction on a grand scale, like the _Gotterdammerung _myth he'd heard so much about back when he'd been a young boy in the Hitler Youth, but then it had been all about war with the Soviet Union, the inevitable Ragnorak, that Mutually Assured Destruction had only put on hold, not denied. The final war...

As a third crash occurred near to the little hole in which he hid, Wilhelm found his thoughts going back to Kleindorf, to the girl... Eva, named for the First _Fuhrer_'s wife, Eva Schrek was her name... the image of her, appearing for some reason, she was not hideous, he decided as he heard a man screaming, from somewhere outside of the firing pit, more than one man he realized, a moment later... men were dieing, many, many, men... he was, he realized dimly, afraid... wasn't that not supposed to happen, to SS men? But it was happening to him... his mind wandered, more than wandered, it sprinted from topic to topic, free association in the madness of the battle. It wasn't as if he could accomplish anything much with his little MP-65...

Home, his parents sitting at the table, his little sister and his older brother, Karl, who'd gone into the _Wehrmacht_ and was serving in the occupation forces in Greece... he was thinking, how happy he had been then, how contented to just sit at the table with his family.

Another explosion, close by. Not a crash, though... he took the chance to peek out, winced. SAMs were still launching, from all sorts of sites, he could see tracers going up into the air, someone or other was putting MG-72 HMGs to AA use, with some MP-65 fire mixed in with it all... but the sky was empty of _Luftwaffe_ planes, entirely empty. Fewer Death Gliders, too... only a little more than a dozen of them left, as far as he could tell. Good shooting, then. _Sieg Heil_ the _Luftwaffe_, he thought to himself. The Death Gliders were attacking the ground... one went down as he watched, then another... he found himself bringing his MP-65 up to bear, firing off shot after shot on full automatic, targeting the deadly Death Gliders as they dove to make their attacks, like terrifying alien Stukas.

More men were screaming, he could smell burning flesh mixed in with the burning wreaks and the other ruin... but Wilhelm was somehow not afraid. Nothing much going through his mind, no more free association of thoughts.

He fired off another magazine, uselessly, as a Death Glider came in towards him...

A SAM found it, though. An explosion, and then it went into a death spin... his jaw dropped, as he saw it strike another Goa'uld attack craft. Two down with one missile... amazing, he'd thought such things only happened in bad movies. Apparently not...

The fighting continued for a while after that. More dieing, more destruction. Until, amazingly enough, the last five Death Gliders broke off the attack. One of those five went down as they fled, victim to one of the parting shots from the surviving SAM launchers scattered among the wreckage of the downed aircraft, and the ruined defenses that had already been reduced. The other four got away.

When that had happened, a few SS men stood, to shout out in joy, _Sieg Heil _the _Schutzstaffel_! Wilhelm didn't join them. He found himself shaking, afraid. He wondered how many SS dead there were...

As he finally came up, and to his feet, he heard an officer speaking, and became nervous again:

"They say that the enemy is landing ground troops just outside of our air defense perimeter..." Ground troops? More of those Egyptian fools? All well and good if it was such a result. He remembered how easily they had been dispatched the last time the SS had faced them. Still, even if he was confident that the next challenge would be easier by far than the last struggle, he found he was not looking forward to it. He had seen enough destruction for one day, he thought. Then he heard the officers talking about something else, and became interested once more:

"Yes, and even if the Goa'uld ships do come from orbit, then there'll always be the last resort plan."

"Yes, there will always be that."

Wilhelm wondered what it was that they were talking about.


	3. Chapter 3

Abydos, SS Defensive Position

**Abydos, SS Defensive Position**

_Oberschütze _Wilhelm Metzger crouched in the sand-bagged firing position, and smiled as he listened to a battery of 6cm and 8cm mortars firing. The Jaffa would be suffering as they advanced... they were out in the open, moving across the sand towards the SS perimeter, many of them to be sure, he'd heard several thousand of them, although he wasn't sure whether or not to believe the figure. They didn't have any artillery, as far as he could see, though... the mortars were hammering them without opposition...

Of course, no sooner had he had that thought than opposition materialized - more Death Gliders, coming in to attack... a dozen or so... they came in high, deployed from orbit. Swooping in, diving to attack... like Stukas, in a way, but so much more deadly...

There were no more _Luftwaffe_ planes to oppose them, all of those were gone... although, he'd heard some more would be along shortly, would be moved up through the Gate if ever there was a break in the attacks, so that they could be assembled...

There were still SAMs, though. Lots of little light SAM launchers, to give the alien pilots cause for caution. A few SAM launches, as the Death Gliders made their attack runs... one kill, a Death Glider struck as it dove, fire ballooning out from the point of impact, as the swift and deadly little craft became a falling wreak, a dead, unpowered, projectile...

The others survived, they seemed to be learning, how to fight the SAMs. Or perhaps they were just less busy avoiding the _Luftwaffe_ planes than their comrades in the earlier attack had been... regardless, they scored some kills of their own.

Their main target seemed to be the mortars, it seemed that they were trying to suppress the German artillery so that it could not hurt their comrades on the ground as much as it had been... it was working, Wilhelm realized, as he saw two mortar crewmen perish, struck by energy blasts from the Death Gliders. The other crewmen were ducking and taking cover, no longer serving their weapons... or else they were dieing, a few more than the ones he had seem perish with all likelihood... a few machinegun crews tried to turn their weapons to an AA purpose, but it was largely futile. Almost pointless... SAMs did better, of course. The heavier ones, from the launchers, they were going up in greater numbers now... as were some lighter shoulder-launched missiles. The SS was being supplied through the Gate, so it wasn't as if they needed to worry about conserving ammunition...

Two more Death Gliders went down as they made a third pass, once again targeting the mortars. The disciplined mortar fire that had been hammering the Jaffa ground forces was a forgotten memory - occasionally one or two mortar crews managed to get off a shot in between attacks from the air, but it was becoming appalling, how many SS were dieing...

The Death Gliders broke off their attacks after a fourth run, when another of their number was shot down. Four Death Gliders down... but it wasn't worth it, that exchange. Dozens, perhaps even scores, of SS men were down, their mortar section had been trashed and disrupted, the Jaffa were closing with their outer perimeter already...

As if in response to his thought, Wilhelm heard the first report of contact with enemy ground forces over the radio:

"This is _Obersturmführer_ von Elerstadt, they're here!" Machineguns firing, MP-65s joining in... then the officer continued, regaining his composure:

"There're thousands of them! So many... too many!" More shooting, they could hear the staff weapons firing, adding to the din... Wilhelm poked his head out from the firing position he'd been occupying as a shelter, could see the fighting - a decent distance away, at the outer-most ring of defenses... a skirmish at this point, as the Jaffa probed the SS defenses, searched for weaknesses...

The radio signal cut off, overridden. A _Hauptscharführer,_ trying to sound reassuring:

"Men! The _Schutzstaffel_ have never known defeat before! We are not about to start a new tradition! Hold, for the _Reich_! Teach these aliens what it is to fight the SS!" it would have been a more inspiring speech if his voice hadn't had a distinct undertone of terror as he'd spoken...

The Jaffa were coming in ever greater numbers, Wilhelm was suddenly convinced that the estimate he'd heard and been reluctant to accept, of there being thousands of them, was if anything a conservative estimation... there were at least several thousand Jaffa already engaged...

They made a mass attack, as he watched. Hundreds of them firing their staff weapons wildly as some other hundreds charged in... they were met with machinegun fire, MG-72s cutting them down like so much wheat... but they kept coming, so many of them moving in all at once...

And even if their weapons were inaccurate at range, there were a whole lot of them firing, and each shot had the affect of a shell of at least 12mm... the SS was taking losses.

As Wilhelm watched, they reached the outermost line, advancing through a hail of lead, continuing to move... the SS men in the outermost positions threw their grenades, and they were effective beyond a doubt - the enemy had not seen grenades before, and did not know what it was that they faced... a whole series of little deadly clouds of shrapnel, cutting down even more of the enemy.

But there were always more...

In the end, the outermost line was overrun, the SS men there tried to resist but it was just impossible, there were so many of the enemy that there was no chance to do anything but die... there had been a plan, for the men in the outermost position to retreat with fire support from the second line of defenses, but nothing like that happened... it was over too quickly for anything like that. An entire over-strength company of _Sternentorkommando_ SS troops, gone like that...

The razor wire hampered the enemy advance for a few moments, as did the butchery of the remaining SS troops... Wilhelm winced in simple terror as he watched an SS man go down beneath the clubbing staves of the Jaffa. Not a good way to die... although, come to think of it, there were very few good ways to die...

The enemy kept coming. They were chanting something... it was, Wilhelm realized, the name of their god. Ra, over and over again, like a talisman... like how the SS would shout _Sieg Heil_, perhaps. Terrifying...

The machineguns along the second line opened up at the enemy, inflicting terrible losses, losses which only increased as they came in closer, as the MP-65s of the SS soldiers were brought to bear, as grenades took their toll...

The SS in the second line of defenses didn't try to hold for long. Mostly, they started to run, leaping out from their hiding places, sprinting towards the innermost line, towards the positions like the one that Wilhelm held. A few machinegunners tried to cover the retreat, but not many... it was, Wilhelm realized, rapidly becoming a rout...

As the SS men retreated, they passed through open terrain. Even if the Jaffa shooting was inaccurate, the losses it inflicted upon the fleeing SS were horrific. So many dead... the staff weapon blasts would strike them, they would be thrown, limbs lost, bodies burnt away... the blasts made flesh burn, when they hit, Wilhelm could tell. Not a good way to die... not a good way to die...

A few SS made it to his firing position, and as they jumped in, panting, terrified and horrified, he came up and started to shoot...

He emptied an entire magazine into the oncoming horde on full-auto, no thought of saving ammunition... it was a scene of madness, simple endless horror... the Death Gliders were back, another dozen, and some of the SS were shooting them down, so that they were crashing, while all around there was a terrible fight... the Jaffa had broken through the second line, were advancing still, but there were noticeably fewer of them, noticeably... they were in among the SS in the last line, one tried to club Wilhelm over the head, but he had just changed for a new magazine in his MP-65, so he shot the Jaffa down, ten or twelve bullets into the chest from the MP-65, its barrel was hot from so much firing, it was starting to glow from the heat, or was that only his imagination... more shooting, the Jaffa and the SS were fighting hand-to-hand now, a terrible slaughter... a few of the SS firing positions, his included, were still islands in the fighting, where the Jaffa had not penetrated. But it didn't look as though that state of affairs would last for long... there were Jaffa on all sides of the firing position, mixed in with SS, butchering the SS and being gunned down in turn... it was something horrid, something obscene, to see so many men and so many aliens all mixed in together, dieing in such numbers...

Then came a call on the radio:

"Soldiers! Fall back to the Gate if you can, we're trying to hold the pyramid itself!" A mad sight, at the same time... a 45mm high velocity field gun from the gate room at _Sternentorkommando_, one of the wide assortment of weapons that had been positioned for the defense of the Gate... they must've wheeled it through, he realized as it fired over open sights, transforming a couple dozen Jaffa and the SS men they had been butchering into so much raw meat...

Wilhelm didn't ask what the other men in his firing position were doing, he just leapt from it, and tried to run towards the entryway to the pyramid... he'd switched his MP-65 to semi-automatic without thinking, now he used it - two or three bullets to each of the enemies who tried to block his way, until as one came at him the magazine went dry... he threw the useless gun at the Jaffa, who blocked it with his staff, and then the Jaffa fired...

... and shot one of the men who had been running with Wilhelm towards the promise of safety. As the others behind him died horribly, Wilhelm kept running, fleeing in blind terror...

He made the entryway to the pyramid, threw himself in as the 45mm fired again. The Jaffa were massing outside of the pyramid, he was sure of it, they were about to charge... a pair of SS men forced their way past him, he turned as they went, and gawked at their flamethrowers, they let the Jaffa have it...

An officer, he couldn't make out the rank, shouted at him:

"Are you wounded?!" he shook his head...

"Then where's your gun?!" Wilhelm shrugged, unable to explain... the officer cursed, then told him:

"Go to the Gate, they're sending through more troops and supplies. Get a rifle there!" Wilhelm nodded, obeyed, glad to put distance between himself and the enemy...

In the pyramid gate room, he found a trio of officers working with some sort of heavy equipment... he'd realized at that point that they must've sent nearly all the troops stationed at _Sternentorkommando_ through the Gate by then, all of the Assault Companies and perhaps a good share of the troops who were supposed to be tasked with the defense of the gate complex itself... so many men, all sent through... he wondered how many were left. Not many, for sure...

The Gate opened, from this side... a few dozen seriously wounded men went through, then perhaps a score of men who looked to be only lightly wounded. Wilhelm watched, wishing he could go with them... one of the officers who'd been working with the machine spoke, a voice on the radio:

"_Achtung_! All units, fall back to the Gate! Maximum speed, abandon all heavy equipment! Through the Gate now!" and then the officers were going through... Wilhelm watched for a moment, in shock, but then he too went through, running in blind terror... it was all too much, he decided. All too much...

**Sternentorkommando, Austrian Alps**

_Gruppenführer_ Michael Schmidt watched the SS retreat through the Gate, the wounded and the battered and the broken... torn uniforms, torn flesh, burns and bleeding wounds... wretched, that the _Schutzstaffel_ had been forced to retreat... even if that had been a part of the plan... of the very, very, necessary plan.

He turned to the man at his side, _Generaloberst _Maximillian Schrek, the head of the _Wehrmacht _force he'd managed to get involved.

"Not much longer now... soon we'll seal the Gate." the _Wehrmacht _man nodded, aloof from the chaos. Seemingly unconcerned with the suffering of the retreating SS troops. Which might well be the case... it wasn't as if they were his men down there, bleeding... his men...

The _Wehrmacht_ men were down there too, of course. Tall and proud and professional as any SS man might be. Deadly men, killers one and all, just like the SS men they would be replacing... he wished he'd been able to get his hands on SS troops none the less. At least then the _Wehrmacht _could have been kept out of the loop... but, no such luck. The only available formation near enough to the base had been the _Wehrmacht_ Mountain troops on maneuvers... so he'd had to use them. He admired their efficiency, though...

Down in the Gate defense area, they were standing in rows to either side of the open Gate, around the steel reinforced, sand-bagged, concrete firing positions. Manning the guns, too, in case the Gate could not be closed quickly enough... out of the way, though. Letting the medics and the doctors look after the SS wounded. Not saying a word, even... although they were seeing what looked to be the detritus of a major battle passing through, all the wounded...

As he watched, he saw the officers come through the Gate, heard one of them call out on his radio, into the Command channel:

"We've set the timer! Close the Gate in four!" a few men followed behind, from what Michael could tell it looked to be a retreat in good order... and then the next men through were running, and then another two, running without their weapons, and then one more man came through, sprinting without thought, and staff blasts came through after him, and one struck him on the back of the head, and he went down...

Michael turned, shouted to the SS technicians at the controls:

"Shut off the damn Gate! Our position has been overrun!" none of them bothered to respond, as they got the Gate deactivated as quickly as they could, although not before an SS medic who'd been helping one of the wounded was killed by a staff blast...

Michael turned to the _Wehrmacht Generaloberst_ at that point, spoke quietly:

"It will be a few minutes until the device deploys. Have your men ready." the _Wehrmacht _man nodded curtly:

"You can be sure that the soldiers of the German _Wehrmacht_ will be fully prepared to face whatever threat there is to be faced." For a moment, Michael wondered if there had been an insult to the fighting efficiency of the _Schutzstaffel _in that statement... but then, then he decided that it didn't matter. He had other things to think about. Like explaining hundreds of deaths to the widows and children that those deaths would leave behind. He wondered if the bosses in Berlin would invent a story... he certainly hoped that they wouldn't leave it up to him...

He sighed to himself, quietly. He had thought that this assignment would be a quiet one, nothing much to worry about. Just administrative work, managing the exploration teams and the guard details for the bases that were established. He'd thought that his biggest problems would be dealing with whatever scientists Berlin sent him, and their inane requests... or the insane mystics Berlin sometimes sent, who claimed to have an understanding of the supposed Ancient Aryan race that had built the Gates... he hadn't expected to wind up commanding a major combat operation... let alone a major combat operation against an alien race. That was something out of a child's comic book. He actually smiled a little on the inside, as he remembered one particular example, that he'd seen his nephew reading the last time he'd visited. The adventures of _Sturmscharführer_ Hoth in the 22nd Century... fighting degenerate Bolshevik ape-men as they sought to destroy pure Aryan humanity... they'd died easily, and in massive numbers. The boy had been so eager to show him the comic... he wished that the enemies he was fighting now were anything like as killable as the ape-men had been... although, from what he'd heard the individual enemy soldiers were inept and poorly equipped... it was just that there were so many of them that they were dangerous.

Sighing, he excused himself and went off to his office, where he helped himself to a drink of plum _Schnapps_ from the bottle he kept in his desk. As he drank, he noticed the painting on his wall, really noticed it - it had come with the office, and he'd never paid attention to it, not really. It was a reproduction of the famous heroic painting, Rommel at the Suez. Rommel in a suitably heroic pose, looking to the east as adoring soldiers in the _Afrika Korps _followed behind, rifles and sub-machineguns at the ready, one of their number carrying the flag of the _Reich_... the pyramids rose in the background, out of place of course. Still, Hitler had loved it and one did not argue with the _Fuhrer_... for a moment, he wondered about the pyramids, thought about the pyramids in Abydos... he took another drink from the bottle, glass forgotten, realized he had finished it almost entirely, decided he would polish it off... after all, things were out of his hands now...

He'd just lifted the bottle to his lips, and downed the last drops when he heard the knocking at his door... he hid the bottle, feeling guilty suddenly, and called out:

"What is it?" It was his aide, letting him know:

"The _Wehrmacht _troops are conducting their operation." he nodded, thought for a moment, then:

"Tell them I wish them luck. I've got a call to make, to Berlin." his aide made some response, Michael wasn't paying much attention. He sat behind his desk, took a moment to compose himself... and then rested his head in his hands, and began to shake. So many of his men were dead... what sort of struggle was the _Reich _getting itself into, he wondered. He could only hope that it was one which could be won... he could only hope. Sighing, he wished he had had a full bottle in his desk. It would have been nice, when all that he could think of was those wounded, and how many dead had not come through at all... he saw the medic fall, again... an unanticipated death, unlucky and nothing else. He'd seen men die before, he'd killed a few himself, in Greece with the occupation... but it was never easy to lose your men. He wondered what Berlin would make of his losses... and hoped that they would see how lucky he had been, to not lose more. That they would not blame him for anything... but that thought, he decided, was shameful. Best not to think it.

To distract himself, he began to compose a report to Berlin, detailing exactly what it was that had occurred so far. It was something to do, something to distract himself from the thoughts he'd had, as he put everything down exactly as it had happened.

The _Wehrmacht _was attacking now, he thought as he wrote. He wondered how they were faring... he hoped that they would not lose too many men, even if they were not his men. He wondered what was happening...

**Abydos Warzone**

The _Wehrmacht_ mountain troops poured through the Gate, perhaps nervous but not allowing it to slow them down. It was unfortunate, that the first time they would go through the Gate would be to go into a battle... it was disorienting, Gate travel, especially the first few times that one experienced it.

The scene that they came into as they exited the Gate was something from a hell world - bodies and wreckage thrown about, Jaffa mixed in with SS dead, enough blood pooled on the floors to make footing uncertain even where there were not bodies and bullet casings scattered about...

There were no living enemies that they could see, at first. It seemed that the SS had, at last, managed to do something right... the device, having detonated, was ignored as they poured out of the pyramid complex. It's contents, the deadly chemical weapon that had done in the remaining Jaffa, was still lingering in the air, of course... but it was only a poison if you breathed it in, and the Jaffa had not had gas masks, unlike the _Wehrmacht_ soldiers... the idea had been suggested, to use yet more nerve gas, but it had been rejected - nerve gas was deadly stuff, yes, but so was traditional poison gas, and if they simply used a traditional chemical agent, then they could send troops through immediately... nerve agents lingered on anything exposed to them, including chemical warfare suits. So that, if they sent through troops after using nerve gas, then the agent would come through the Gate when they returned, and possibly contaminate the Gate room, requiring a massive clean-up effort... and, of course, when the enemy had no gas masks anyway, a traditional chemical weapon was as effective as a nerve agent. So they'd made their decision...

The exterior of the pyramid was cratered and ruined - massive stone blocks thrown about like a child's wooden blocks, wreaked aircraft still smoldering here and there, dozens of downed Death Gliders and the scattered _Luftwaffe_ fighter-bombers that had tried to oppose them... the defensive lines the SS had established were in ruins too, of course... there were bodies everywhere, SS men scattered in with the Jaffa...

The _Wehrmacht_ force came out of the pyramid over a carpet of Jaffa dead, dead from both the chemical attack and the earlier combat. Blackened corpses from flame thrower attacks, shattered bodies brought down by shrapnel or bullet, and then, on the top of the pile, the seemingly untouched bodies of victims of the poison gas... seemingly untouched, until one looked at their faces, and saw the bloody froth around their mouths, or the puddles of bloody vomit, or the discolorations on their faces, or the agonized look their features had assumed. So much pain, if one looked close... the Jaffa had not known what it was that they were facing, even as it killed them. Even as it melted their lungs, and made them vomit blood and slime... there were, as far as it could be seen, no Jaffa left alive on the ground. No SS either, for that matter... the SS had not been prepared for such an event, if they had been left behind in the chaos...

The _Wehrmacht_ soldiers began to walk instead of run, their eagerness to get into position forgotten in the sheer horror of the battlefield. An SS firing position, held to the last by desperate men with machineguns, who'd made the Jaffa dead pile high, as they'd held out against the assault. Only to eventually be overrun, or if not... there were, the _Wehrmacht _soldiers were realizing as they took up the positions that the dead SS had held, some SS among the number of those who had died vomiting up the bloody remains of their lungs. It was... an awful scene. No way to describe the horror.

Walter von Neustadt, who was a veteran of the wars in South America, of the fighting between Argentina and Chile and the forces of 'volunteers' sent to assist them, who had seen villages hit with napalm in the Andes mountains, who had killed men and risked death any number of times before, walked among the dead as if in a dream, mouth open in shock. This... this was beyond anything he had seen before. Like something out of the First World War, how men had had to charge machineguns with nothing but... nothing but nothing, he decided as he walked. No hope, no hope even of survival... but these Jaffa had charged, and kept on charging. Kept on charging, until they had, more or less, won. But then the gas had come...

The anti-aircraft missiles were brought through next, more of the same that had made the Death Gliders pay for their close support missions. Then the engineers and the heavy weapons... setting up a new position, preparing to face the Goa'uld once more.

It was perhaps three more hours past, when the enemy showed itself once more. The bodies had been, more or less, removed from the trenches, those same positions reinforced, wire and directional mines laid down, as anti-aircraft positions were established. Not that much time, really... but then, also a lot of time, considering that the battle had already been underway, and had been, more or less, interrupted...

They sent in the remaining Death Gliders, or what seemed to be - an exchange of fire, panicked shooting, piles of dead used for cover as men lined up shots with shoulder-launched SAMs... kills, Death Gliders crashing to earth in flames, adding to the wreckage that had defined the area around the pyramid even before the latest exchange. Transforming the emotions of the place from awe, from the idea that the corpse-strewn battlefield was some sort of place where one needed to speak quietly to show respect, a church or something, to a battlefield once more, where one might scream and curse and kill...

The _Wehrmacht_ fought hard - their ranks were full of men like Walter von Neustadt, who had fought before... who had, as he had, fought American helicopters and made them pay for flying where they ought not... it was not, he might have said, so much of a different thing to fight a Death Glider as it might seem. In both situations, you risked death in a particularly nasty way... so what if the mechanics were different, the emotion was the same...

Missiles sent off into the air, yet more kills...

And then the Goa'uld ships were there, coming down all at once, all together, mountains falling from the sky, providing close support to the Death Gliders, coming in to avenge the fallen ground troops, their murdered comrades...

And someone was on the _Wehrmacht_ channel, shouting for a retreat through the Gate, and all involved obeyed as best they could... the Death Gliders tried to harass them, but they had killed enough of them that there was not that much that they could do.

Walter was among the last through into the pyramid - he took his time, used his last SAM, shot down another Death Glider as it prepared to strafe fleeing _Wehrmacht_ soldiers... and then he joined in the flight, ran into the pyramid. Running, down corridors filled with the dead. Reaching the Gate, seeing it already active. Seeing the device placed next to it, a new device...

And then he went through the Gate, as the others did... and then, perhaps a little less than a minute after the last _Wehrmacht_ soldier who was still able to move had gone through, and the Gate had closed behind him, as the Goa'uld ships began to come in closer to land their remaining troops, the device performed its function...

**Sternentorkommando, Austrian Alps**

_Gruppenführer_ Michael Schmidt watched the Gate close, as the last of the _Wehrmacht_ troops came through. Losses had been... lighter than anticipated, but still... more German dead on that damned world... he turned to his _Wehrmacht _counter-part, asked:

"How long, now?"

"Not long." a pause, as Michael swallowed:

"I cannot help but wish that there could have been some better way to stop them. Some other way..." the _Wehrmacht_ man snorted:

"Well, your SS men who fell for the Fatherland are about to receive the ultimate Viking funeral, aren't they? A ship like that, to bear them to their paradise..." Michael frowned:

"The plan was... good, I think. That the bodies could not be recovered, not so good." another pause, then he continued, "but yes, I do think that they will have the finest Viking funeral any soldiers ever had." thinking, the high powered atom bomb inside of the landed ship's reactor, about to set off the strange substance that provided the alien ship's power... thinking out loud, he asked:

"I wonder if we'll ever go back..." no response, none needed... a victory, apparently. A very costly victory, but one none the less. Four ships and their crews destroyed, for only a small cost in comparison. All of the fighting a trap to lure the enemy ships in to provide close support... a victory. Why then did it feel like a defeat?

**Berlin, German **_**Reich **_**- Two Weeks Later**

_Gruppenführer_ Michael Schmidt rather nervously adjusted his uniform collar as he waited in the little room they'd been left in. It was not every day that one was "invited" to _Gestapo _headquarters... the mere fact that he had been was enough to make him worry. Was enough to make him search his soul for any trace of guilt. The fact that there was quite a bit of guilt there, about the deaths of so many of his men, was not helping him to keep calm...

Finally, after what seemed like ages, a _Gestapo_ man came for him, told him quietly to follow, which he did... through the corridors, he couldn't help but feel a bit impressed at the scale of it all, even though he knew that it was all a trick, meant to intimidate. Well, the trick was working...

He had started to sweat by the time that they arrived at the room which seemed to be their destination. Partially from nerves, but there was also the fact that they had gone a good ways down, underground perhaps, and they were near the big furnaces that heated the whole complex, so that the heat from those furnaces was a bit much...

The _Gestapo_ man who'd brought them there knocked on the door, it opened, he conferred with another man in a _Gestapo_ uniform for a moment, and then the one who had been his guide turned to Michael:

"Come in. Your aide as well, we have some people for you to meet." he nodded, didn't say anything... the _Gestapo_ man had ignored his rank, as though it did not exist... and that was allowed, perhaps, since the _Gestapo_ was not part of the _Schutzstaffel_, but still... it was impolite. Consciously impolite, a sign of disrespect... or perhaps it was just the _Gestapo_ man following his habits, of putting any outsider off balance. Regardless, Michael did not appreciate it... but he didn't say anything, couldn't have made himself say anything even if he'd really wanted to, which he guessed he did. He feared the _Gestapo_, at least a little. More than he feared anything else, at any rate.

He was a bit surprised at the people he saw in the room when he came in - a _Wehrmacht _soldier, the same _Generaloberst _who'd overseen the _Wehrmacht _deployment at the _Sternentor_ base... Maximillian Schrek, that was his name. He'd expected that, as he'd expected to see Otto Metzger, the _Gestapo _agent who'd spoken with him back at Kleindorf, before everything had gotten out of hand... he hadn't expected the Americans, though. That surprise was quite a bit of a surprise... an American Air Force general, a Lieutenant General if he still remembered how to read American rank insignia... a man in a US Army dress uniform, with the rank of a Colonel... Michael recognized that the man was a killer, and looked away, at the other two Americans. Those two wore civilian clothing, suits and ties, all very proper. Which left only one man at the table, sitting at its head. Michael guessed that this was the _Führer's _representative in this matter... that guess was reinforced when that same man spoke:

"Please, _Gruppenführer_ Schmidt, take a seat." he nodded, and complied... that same man who had spoken spoke again, when he was seated:

"I have called you here to hear what has been decided about your operation." Michael nodded, wondering about the presence of the Americans but confident that it would be explained...

"It has been decided that the _Wehrmacht_ will begin to be involved in your operations. SS _Sternentorkommando_ will be expanded - you will have a full strength light infantry division stationed at the base, as well as assorted other forces, including a separate garrison for the Castle base. The _Wehrmacht _will become involved on an initially small scale... those Mountain troops you called upon, they will remain attached to your command. As well, some additional _Luftwaffe _forces will be deployed to your area... additionally," he gestured at the Americans, "there will be some American observers joining you. As well as a few American scientists, and some of their soldiers." he stopped at that point, and Michael managed to make himself respond:

"But... why, sir? The Gate does not connect to Abydos any more..." and the man at the head of the table smiled, and explained:

"We've discovered something, _Gruppenführer_ Schmidt. Or should I say, our American allies have." he paused for a moment, letting the tension and anticipation build, then explained:

"The Gate connects to more worlds than the three you know, you see." Michael felt... a bit shocked, if that was how to put it. A bit startled and surprised... but, when the aliens had shown up, he'd known on some level that something like this was going to happen, was going to be revealed.

"How many, sir?" a shrug, then:

"Unknown. They're still working on it. But... they've discovered why we were never able to make the Gate work before... and so we now have a Gate to the universe in our hands." one of the American civilians spoke, interrupting the mood:

"To the galaxy, more like it. It was a simple enough matter, to adjust for stellar drift. Now your Gate works, again." Michael raised an eyebrow:

"Again?"

"Well, yes. It must have worked when first it was built, isn't that right?"

"What do you mean..."

"I mean that, way back when, tens of thousands of years ago, the Gate linked to a system. A system linking some sort of Empire..." Michael nodded, remembered what had been said:

"The ancient Aryan Empire that we were told about?" the Americans seemed to share a look, as though this was some sort of joke they were seeing... the American replied:

"Well... something like that." the _Führer_'s representative interrupted their discussion at that point:

"Enough of this for now. I think the situation has been made clear to our SS friends," as he said that he was looking at the Americans, something that unnerved Michael to a degree... although not as much as what he said next:

"I think he should give us a full explanation of his facility at this point, for all of you. You're all going to be working with him, after all." Michael cleared his throat, began to explain the way he had things running...

**Later**

As he finished his explanation of how the SS housing was managed, with the Kleindorf planned community and its suburbs, the _Führer_'s representative interrupted:

"I think that's enough for now. Perhaps we will have some coffee, and come to learn more about each other?" he said it like a suggestion, but it was a simple declaration - they were going to have some coffee...

When it came, they made some attempt at small talk - they all spoke something of both English and German, both languages were common enough, and important enough...

Michael's English was more than decent - he'd taken courses in it, although those courses had placed more emphasis on military terminology than on anything else, including conversation over coffee...

Still, he made an effort, asking the American soldier in the best English he could:

"I think you have an advantage over me, I do not know your name, but you know mine?" the American scowled at him, then:

"I am Jacob "Forty-seven" O'Neil. The forty-seven is a nickname I earned in the Andes Mountains, fighting against German and Argentine troops... I once killed forty-seven German soldiers from the SS volunteer units all on my own. That's how I got that name. I have no love for you, SS man." Michael was a bit taken back by the American's response, but managed a non-committal nod, before turning his attention to his coffee. As he drank it, he wondered to himself what the world was coming to, what might be the fate of the _Reich_. There was a whole galaxy out there, if the American scientists could be believed. He could only wonder at what the future would hold, with so many things going so very differently from how he had ever expected them to go. He smiled, as he finished his coffee. The future might be uncertain, but he was fairly confident that it would not be dull.


End file.
